


to be young & in love

by dreamiesficfest, loneliestfox



Series: Dear Dream - Dreamies Fic Fest (Third Wave) [5]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-08
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2020-02-28 08:49:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18753028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamiesficfest/pseuds/dreamiesficfest, https://archiveofourown.org/users/loneliestfox/pseuds/loneliestfox
Summary: Prompt Number: #DD148Jisung learns he likes Chenle first before he learns that he likes boys, and then he cancels the last memo out because he decides that he just likes Chenle. Just Chenle.





	to be young & in love

**Author's Note:**

> things i didnt tag: park gay crisis jisung, lowkey jisung coming out as Gay, IM YEOJIN AS THE #1 BEST FRIEND
> 
> to prompter; i'm sorry i didn't include much of china line TT____TT i hope u still like it <3 to everyone else; i hope u enjoy!

Jeju High loses the game 4 to 5 at home, to Jaemin’s utter dismay. He throws his cap on the ground, creating a little dust storm around it and stomps his foot down. He glares across the field and shouts, “Eat shit, you cheating bastards!”

And technically, they didn’t but technically, they did; because Jungsan High has fancy glistening wooden bats and Nike gym bags. It's _that_ , against Jeju High's five year old equipments. Jisung looks down to his worn out, tattered baseball mit (a hand-me-down from his brother) and hides it behind his back, suddenly ashamed as those snotty Jungsan boys fall into fits of laughter, watching some island boy’s rage. Nike bags and stupid shiny new bats be damned.

The rest of the team spill out into the sidewalk in frustration and Jisung, Jaemin, and Donghyuck part ways with the rest of the team at an intersection between the suburbs and towards the city centre. Coach Boo grabs Jaemin by the shoulder and tells him to not beat himself up. Surely Na Jaemin out of people would not listen — seemingly all captains are the same, just like their captain before (Mark Lee, who is currently in SNU) and the other before him (Kim Jungwoo, who is currently in China. Jisung doesn’t know why.) They walk towards the city centre and Jisung hears a honk from a car, the sound of night life, shot glasses clinking against each other and the sizzling sound of oil on scratched iron pans.

Jisung turns around to face Donghyuck and Jaemin just as the pedestrian light turns red. They wait.

“I’m hungry,” he declares, huddling further into his jacket. In two weeks time he might need a scarf around his neck.

“Well,” Jaemin says and his shoulders finally relaxes into his frame. “I’m bitter.”

“So let’s get Chinese,” Donghyuck says and throws his arms around Jaemin. He hooks his fingers around the edge of Jaemin’s lips and lifts them up. Jisung laughs. “C’mon, captain.”

Jisung doesn’t know what being bitter has got to do with Chinese cuisine but Donghyuck is Donghyuck and he definitely knows better. He goes along like he always does and shrugs, sure. They cross the street when the light turns green, shouldering past other students heading for hagwons and drunken office workers heading back home. They walk straight into Dongmun market and leave through another exit, turn a corner, left, right — oh, hyung, a band is playing at the square! — down an alley and head to Zhong Palace.

Jisung’s never heard of Zhong Palace, notably because it is tucked far away from the main street and takes a few turns before they find it. But the name somehow rings a bell; the name Zhong. Donghyuck tugs Jaemin’s elbow and turns around to face Jisung, tells him, “The place is sweeter than the average Chinese restaurant ‘cause they’re from Shanghai!”

And Jisung knows neither him nor Donghyuck has been to Shanghai, so he shoots Donghyuck a quizzical look and goes, “How’d you know?”

“I’ve been here many times,” he says, grinning and turns to Jaemin, face still stiff with tension. He presses two fingers against the space between his eyebrows and presses on it. “Loosen up now, Cap. Maybe food will help you relax.”

When they slip inside, the first thing Jisung sees is no other than Zhong Chenle behind the counter with the brightest smile under shitty yellow lightning.

“Welcome,” Chenle says and oh, no wonder the name Zhong was so familiar. Jisung stands still, a little stunned, at the entrance and watches Donghyuck say _Hey, Chenle!_ and goes for a high five. Jaemin shoots him an odd look as he slips out of his shoes and takes his cap off.

“You gonna stay there the whole time or what?” Jaemin asks, one eyebrow raised. He tells Jisung to move and puts his shoes on the shoe rack behind Jisung. When Jaemin walks to where Donghyuck’s already sat, he looks at his shoes for a bit, then looks up.

“Hey, Jisung,” Chenle says. He rounds the counter with three pieces of paper in his arms, the corners a little worn off. Must be the menu. Jisung bows his head a little and takes his shoes off.

“Hey, Chenle,” he says, tucking his gym bag behind his back and steps inside the restaurant. “Nice seeing you here.”

Chenle smiles. “You, too.”

 _Hi,_ his gut feeling says and he shoots Chenle a smile before heading to Jaemin and Donghyuck, Chenle in tow to take down their orders. _It’s me! Your friendly ribcage-dwelling butterflies have awoken_.

So Donghyuck comes here often because Chenle’s in broadcasting club and they hold their celebratory dinners here, the same club Donghyuck is vice president for, which is also the reason why sometimes he hears a shrill GOOD MORNING EVERYONE (Donghyuck) and then the next day he hears a cheery gooooood morning everyone! (Chenle)

Jisung makes it a point for himself to try to digest the butterflies. Here's a fun little game for everyone to play. Take a shot (if you're a minor, then do shots from your water bottle cap) every time Jisung pauses when he speaks to Chenle and take two for every time Jisung looks away, cheeks flushed.

Jaemin holds out his palms, his left thumb pressed in the middle of it. He wiggles the fingers that are outstretched into the air and says, “You said _actually_ and _like_ and _honestly_ like nine times.”

“Each,” Donghyuck adds. Jisung doesn't have time to protest before Jaemin opens his mouth.

“And then,” he continues, pressing on the letter n. This time he unfolds his thumb, holds his hands out and shoves it in Jisung's face. “You looked away _ten_ times—”

“—or more.”

“—every time Chenle looks your way,” Jaemin says, a smirk forming on his face. “What's that about?”

Shot count: Don't Play This Game, Please.

“I'm just,” Jisung mumbles, shoulders hunched over himself. He hears the sound of the wok against the stove, hears the sizzle of meat, and hears his heart beat loud in his ear. He gestures wildy at nothing. “Shy,” is what he settles with because no way in hell is going to gut out his Cute Boy Problems right here and then at said boy's place of business. He has _morals_.

Their food comes hot and warm, a contrast from the air outside crawling into the start of winter. Jaemin and Donghyuck order their sweet and sour black pork per Donghyuck’s decision, claiming that it will heal Jaemin’s deep bitter wound in his heart. Fuck Jungsan High, by the way. Jisung’s still growing to everyone’s absolute dismay and orders a serving of fried dumplings and their house special fried rice. But when Chenle sets his food down for him, he gets two servings of fried dumplings and a bowl of fried rice.

He doesn’t remember asking for two servings. He looks at Donghyuck and mouths _did you order one, too?_ Donghyuck shakes his head, no. “Actually—”

Donghyuck coughs into his palm, hiding a laugh. His tenth actually of the night.

“Ah,” Chenle notes, hugging the metal tray to his chest. “The other serving is, um, on me.” Jisung stares at Chenle and blinks once, twice. His cheeks are tinted pink. Embarrassed. Question mark? “Enjoy your meal!” He says quickly and spins around. Walks back into the kitchen. Jisung is left perplexed, cheeks warm.

“I thought there was one panicked gay,” Donghyuck announces, putting his chopsticks down on the table. “But apparently there are _two_.”

 

 

So yes, Park Jisung has an astronomical crush on Zhong Chenle — it’s not rocket science.

It started out small, a teenie tiny baby sized crush. And then it grew with every smile, every glance, and every laugh.

Jisung learns he likes Chenle first before he learns that he likes boys, and then he cancels the last memo out because he decides that he just likes Chenle. Just Chenle. He thought boys with a nice voice, who have cheek dimples, are a little shorter than him, have a high-pitched laugh, and who seem to have their watch surgically attached to their left wrist are the type of boys he likes. And then he comes to the horrifying realisation that he has just described Zhong Chen-fucking-Le.

It’s not dramatic the way he pines over Chenle. It’s not all that sad but it’s not that great either because Jisung gets excited over Chenle’s thumbs up emoji reply when he texts him about homework when Chenle probably doesn’t even _care_. But hey, at least they have conversed.

Jisung has a peculiar and bizzare theory that Chenle’s actually a witch or something otherworldly because the day Chenle stepped inside their classroom, Jisung was immediately charmed and his brain went: Yes. This is the boy I want to have a crisis over. Perfect.

It doesn’t help either the fact that he’s so nice and unforgivingly caring, crazy smart and maybe Jisung's a little bit in love. Maybe he isn't. True loves aren't things seventeen year olds are supposed to worry about anyway but Jisung's brain (ironic, since he is, technically, his brain and the words are coming out of his brain, so—) decides otherwise and dumps Cute Boy Problem together in the pot, along with Trying to Live Under Your Brother's Shadow, Hourly Existential Crisis and more, and mixes them together.

Chenle smiles and Jisung’s heart goes bam and bang, feels his heart go all go, go, go. _Go for the boy_.

But he doesn’t. He doesn’t go for the boy or anything. Instead he sits quietly in the third row and tries to avoid talking to Chenle in the first row the best he can before he melts into a vat of his own tears.

It's not like they don't talk at all — they do. They talk from time to time and Jisung shoots him a text or two every time he has problems in English class, so it’s enough for Jisung. It’s okay.

 

 

After two days of verbal harassment from his hyungs (“Jisung, have you talked to Chenle yet!” from Donghyuck and “Go to Zhong Palace more often to get your stomach _and_ heart full!” from Jaemin. Both get a “Shut up,” from Jisung) and two days of Jisung overanalyzing the significance of the extra plate of dumplings, he decides that he has had enough.

The second he gets home from school one day, where he had made sure he became one with the wall anytime Chenle even breathes his way, he grabs whatever paper he finds on the kitchen table and starts a list.

WHY CHENLE ISN’T CUTE

1.

“Has anyone seen my Uniqlo receipt?” He hears his mum calls out from her room and Jisung flips the paper around and sees, well, Uniqlo written on it. 1 WOMEN’S CASHMERE CARDIGAN ₩25,000.

“No,” Jisung shouts as a reply and crams the receipt into his pocket and heads into his room. Locks the door, pulls his chair out, and sits down. He turns his table lamp on with a click, the list now under bright light.

Maybe Chenle was just being nice to him, pitied the string bean looking teenage boy from his class who looks like he will never grow into his limbs. Maybe he did this to all his friends. _Or,_ the butterflies in his stomach say and Jisung pulls up Safari on his phone and types out _christ sake how do u kill the butterflies in ur stomach_ into the search bar. The results load. _NO!!! NOT REAL BUTTERFLIES I MEANT THE FLUTTERING FEELING IN MY STOMACH WHEN I SEE A CUTE BOY_.

 _Or,_ The butterflies flutter their wings in his stomach, against his ribcage. A hurricane. Jisung grips his pencil a little tighter. _Or he finds you cute too—_

WHY CHENLE ISN’T CUTE

1\. out of my league  
2\. too cute  
3\. the nose scrunch  
4\. when he smiles and his eyes just disappear? like? shut up

Jisung crumples the list in his hand and chucks it underneath the table, joining the pile of strips of failed pretentious prose he tried to write. Okay, so maybe Chenle’s just really nice.

Or he can just ask him why he gave him extra food.

Or, in Jisung fashion—

`HELLO` Jisung sends a text into the group chat, where it’s only him, Jaemin and Donghyuck. It’s appropriately named JS&THE BOYS.

`anyone want chinese?`   
`like...next week.`   
`or smth.`

Jaemin and Donghyuck reply two hours later because they had hagwon to attend, and like good exemplary high school seniors, they turn their phone off during class. It’s a rapid fire of continuous _ding! ding! ding!_ Jisung reads from the notification bar. `do u want to get a taste of the dumplings or do u want to check che` — Jisung stops reading there.

 

 

Jisung finds himself sitting next to Chenle in their auditorium during an unexpected assembly. Something about using the school toilet properly. Before he entered the hall, he looks around trying to find Yeojin, his seatmate, his other half, the closest thing to a twin sister, his literal best friend, only to get a text that said `skipping lecture BYE`. Jisung deflates and furiously types back `IM ALREADY OUTSIDE THE HALL!`

“Jisung!” He hears and turns around, surprised. It’s Chenle, coming down from the staircase to the control room. “What are you doing out here?” He asks, tilting his head to the side a little. A skip of his heart. Chenle jerks a thumb towards the entrance and asks, “Going inside?”

His phone vibrates in his hands. A text from lentil bean yeojinnie. Later, he will find that she has texted him `well sucks to be you ㅋㅋㅋ`.

But Jisung decides that no, not really. Being Park Jisung doesn’t really suck that much. He has his elbow pressed against Chenle’s, sitting in the furthest back row of the hall, where nobody can see them.

They sit next to each other silently at first and it’s awkward. He doesn’t know what to do while sitting next to someone he barely even talks to. One time Chenle had asked Jisung for his paper on Korean Literature because he got full marks while Chenle barely got an A. Jisung thought he was going to die from trying to explain Syntax and Subtext to a doe-eyed Chenle, looking confused, but nodding anyway. That was the closest Jisung had gotten to Chenle.

“So,” Chenle starts as the lights in the auditorium turn off. Thank God. “What do you think about basketball?”

And they hit it off, surprisingly, having shared the same favourite NBA player (“You like Stephen Curry, too?” And Chenle replied with a, “Jisung, I would literally lay my life down for him.”) and then moved on to more serious matters, like, their shared Older Brother Complex (“Don’t you think the older they get, the bigger the shadow gets? You’d think it means we’ll get more shade; protected, but no—it means you’ve got to grow into that shadow.” Chenle says it so eloquently, Jisung could have never caught the hint of sadness in his voice.) Jisung learns that Chenle moved to Jeju island when he was five from Shanghai. And he’s been here ever since. His eyes are bright and shining as he talks so fondly of Shanghai, of his summer visits there and of his grandparents. Jisung returns with a story of his grandparents who have lived in the same house since they got married, up in Seogwipo-si, near the shore.

The conversation is cut short however when the lights turn back on and they both squint at the front, watching their principal grip the edges of the lecture podium.

“Thanks by the way,” Jisung whispers as the principal continues on with the lecture with an ending speech. Chenle stares at him. He clears his throat, suddenly hyper aware of how close they were, shoulders pressed against each other. Knees knocking against each other. Jisung stretches his legs out. “For the food the other day. Really, thank you.”

And Chenle laughs. Jisung’s heart aches.

“No problem,” he says, smiling. He pats Jisung’s hand and says, “You’re my friend.”

_Friend._

What a nice thing to be.

When the throng of students head out of the hall, Chenle nudges Jisung’s side and tells him, “Why haven’t we talked sooner? We have so much in common.”

Jisung wants to say _it’s because I’m gay and awkward and have a crush on you_ but instead he says, “Weird, huh?”

 

 

Jaemin and Donghyuck don’t end up going to Zhong Palace with Jisung the next week, or the following week either. They end up going there during lunch time with the rest of the baseball team after Sunday practice.

Donghyuck had gotten the longest straw from the bunch and cheered. Jumped around. Jaemin snickered and sighed, “Okay, okay. So where are we having for lunch?”

“Zhong Palace,” Donghyuck had said, eyes glinting with something a little playful, a little dark. Jaemin and Donghyuck both turned to shoot Jisung a glance as Coach Boo lamented over the impending fate of his credit card bill, trying to feed twelve ravenous, still-growing teenagers.

So it was Donghyuck’s idea in the end.

“The last time we were here, we—”

“Shut up,” Donghyuck says, slapping his hand over Jaemin’s mouth. Jaemin glares. “Honestly, get over it. It’s just one game and it was just a friendly match. Take the L out of your—”

Coach Boo leading them from the front clears his throat and Donghyuk folds his lips inward. He shoots a warning look at Jaemin and takes his hand away from Jaemin. He throws his arm around Jisung then and Jisung stumbles a little, surprised.

“Hey, lover boy,” Donghyuck whispers and Jisung frowns. He nudges Donghyuck off him and scoffs. Donghyuck laughs. “Excited, are we?”

Jisung cups his hands around his mouth and mouths _I’m going to kill you_. Donghyuck throws up a peace sign and sticks his tongue out at him.

It doesn’t take long for them to reach Zhong Palace. A few turns and a few streets and he can easily spot the red neon sign of the restaurant blinking from afar. The restaurant is tucked away nicely behind office buildings, away from the main road. Donghyuck links his arm with Jisung’s as his coach pushes the door inside and bows.

“Excited?” Donghyuck teases as he breaks away from Jisung.

Jisung fake laughs and follows Coach Boo’s lead and heads inside. He hears Seonho and Taehyun greeting Chenle and Jisung freezes. He’s not _excited_. On the contrary, he’s pretty nervous. A little jittery?

“Hey, Jisung,” Chenle says. Oh, the source of his jitters. Behind him is a guy, a little taller than Chenle, smiling as he welcomes the whole team and ushers them towards two of the biggest tables in the room. Chenle smiles at him and it’s warm. It spreads through his chest and he turns stupid; wordless. Looking at Chenle has always made him feel a little foolish.

He opens his mouth and says, “Hey, Chenle! Didn’t expect to see you here.”

Point proven.

He clamps his mouth shut as soon as the words leave his mouth. His cheeks feel warm, feeling the gaze of his teammates on him and Chenle staring at him with wide eyes. Then, Chenle breaks into a grin, eyes thin lines on his face.

“Stupid,” he says softly. Almost affectionately. “I work here.”

“I know,” he stammers out, hand raised to gesticulate his thoughts. “I—”

“You.” He's teasing and he _knows_ it. Jisung breaks into a grin; hopeful that it does not come across as a grimace.

“I,” he begins again and bends down. Picks up his discarded shoes. “I should go sit down,” he says, averting eye contact with Chenle as he puts it on the shoe rack.

“Okay,” Chenle says. “Okay. Go take a seat.”

Jisung makes sure this time he sits far away from Donghyuck but electronic devices are magical. His phone vibrates as soon as he takes a seat, dumping his gym bag between his legs. He takes his phone out from his pocket, unlocks it, and opens the notification.

`DIDNT EXPECT TO SEE U HERE?????  
` `PARK JISUNGGGGGG`

He looks up from his screen and glares Donghyuck, sitting three seats away. He doesn’t seem to realise though, being so immersed in conversation with Jaemin and Soobin. He types back a reply.

`I PANICKED OKAY`

Coach Boo orders everyone the same dish; he says it’s fair this way but really he knows it’s because japchae is rather cheap and twelve servings of it won’t dent his credit card as much as twelve servings of sweet and sour black pork. Chenle’s helping out the other guy out with serving them — coming out one by one with a tray of four bowls each time. Donghyuck calls the other guy Kun hyung in a sickeningly sweet voice every time he comes back with a tray of food, so that must be his name. Kun.

When Chenle puts his bowl down in front of him, there are three fried dumplings in his bowl, placed to the side. Jisung looks up at Chenle, surprised.

“Chenle—”

“Hey,” Seonho interjects, frowning, looking inside Jisung’s bowl. He’s sitting across Jisung and turns his gaze to Chenle. “Why don’t I get free dumplings, too? This blatant show of favouritism…”

“Maybe if you were nicer to me,” Chenle sighs, obviously faking it. The three of them are classmates. Surely if he did this to everyone he would give Seonho free food, too, no? He puts his hand on his waist and continues. “Jisung doesn’t bully me in class.”

Seonho gasps. “I do _not_ bully you in class,” he says. He presses a hand to his chest, over his heart. “Chenle, you wound me.”

Chenle rolls his eyes and turns to Jisung and grins. “Enjoy your meal,” he says and leaves.

Across him, Seonho picks out the carrot strips from his japchae with his metal chopsticks. Jisung carefully mixes the ingredients together. Then, Seonho mumbles, “Not fair.”

“What’s not?”

“Why do you get dumplings and I don’t?”

“Hey, if you want one so much, I can order some for you, you brat,” Coach Boo cuts in before Jisung could even form a reply, sitting a table away from them. Seonho waves his hand.

“Not the point, Coach,” he says and goes back to his meal. Another carrot strip.

“You can have one of mine, Seonho,” Jisung says quietly. He picks one up and is ready to place it in Seonho’s bowl when he shakes his head, no.

“Jisung-ah,” Seonho calls. His voice is light and airy. A little teasing. He smiles when he looks at Jisung and says, “I think Chenle here likes you.”

Jisung chokes.

There is no way in hell that Zhong Chenle would like someone like him — awkward, doesn’t know how to love, first language isn’t even language, is afraid of literally anything, the personification of Gay Panic 101.

Jisung thinks of what Seonho said that night and thinks _Chenle Chenle Chenle_. He likes the way Chenle laughs at stupid jokes in class, likes how Chenle’s eyes had widened when they compared hand sizes that one time (“Jisung, what the heck?”), he just. He just really likes Chenle it’s ridiculous. Something awakens in the pit of his stomach and he wishes he could take it out of him and throw it out in the sea and let it sink to the ocean floor.

He likes it this way. He’s not greedy. Jisung picks on the skin around his fingernails and tries to not see Chenle’s face when he closes his eyes. He tries again and again and turns on his side, groaning. He can’t sleep. He turns and turns and frowns.

What’s the verdict on being friends with your crush anyway?

His mind straight goes for Jeno. Donghyuck. Jeno and Donghyuck. The only couple he knows besides his parents. Lee Jeno is Donghyuck’s boyfriend who goes to another school, just down the street from theirs. They have been friends longer than Jisung has been friends with Donghyuck. He remembers watching Donghyuck turn into the literal heart eyes emoji when he watched Jeno on the field — on the track team — before they got together.

Jisung presses his palms against his cheeks and they’re warm. He thinks of Jeno holding Donghyuck’s hand. Donghyuck kissing the side of Jeno’s face when they think no one’s watching. Jisung turns around and groans into his pillow.

“No fucking way,” he whispers. “No fucking way that’ll happen to you and Chenle.”

 

 

“So I think I met the love of my life,” Jaemin announces casually one Thursday evening, throwing the baseball into the air before catching it in his hand. Donghyuck taps the home plate twice with his bat, a sticker of MJ on the side.

“Okay, and?” Donghyuck says, muffled from his helmet. It must be uncomfortable and foreign for Donghyuck and even for Jisung to see him in a helmet. Donghyuck’s a pitcher through and through, a baseball cap on his head instead of the heavy gear he and Jaemin’s always wearing. But this is for fun, so Jisung watches Jaemin fix his stance and throws.

Donghyuck hisses. “Sorry,” he says. He taps the plate once again as Jisung throws the ball back to Jaemin. “So what about this love of your life?”

“Remember when Coach Boo brought us out for lunch?” The both of them nod. That was about two weeks ago. “So I left my phone back at the restaurant, actually. So I went back like an hour later to get it back and I saw the cutest boy I’ve ever seen in my life behind the counter.” Jisung stares. “No, Jisung. It isn’t Chenle, if you’re wondering. He’s so,” he clenches his fist around the ball. “ _Cute_. He told me to not be an idiot next time and I — you know me, right? — was all like. But I’m a fool for you.”

Silence hangs in the air. Then, Jisung breaks it with a cough.

“So,” Jisung says. He adjusts his position. Shifts his weight to his left feet. “Then what happened?”

“Oh,” Jaemin says, raising one leg up, knee bent. “He kicked me out.”

Donghyuck smirks. “I see you’ve met Renjun,” he says, knees bent, too.

Jisung watches Jaemin hurl the ball towards him and he catches it before Donghyuck could even swing his bat. Donghyuck groans. Jaemin sticks his tongue out at Donghyuck and pulls a funny face. Jisung takes his mit off and watches the ball roll to a stop at Donghyuck’s heel.

“This is why you’re a pitcher,” Jaemin comments. He jerks his chin towards Jisung. Then, “and Jisung’s a catcher. But a pretty good hitter, too, right?” Jisung doesn’t dare nod. He just stares back. Jaemin turns to look back at Donghyuck. “How are you a shit hitter?”

“Be careful there, Mr Na Jaemin,” Donghyuck says, resting his bat on his shoulder. He takes off his helmet and lets it fall to the ground. A stance of threat. “I have a bat in my hand.”

Jisung chuckles and leans back to fall on his butt. His mother is going to kill him (again) when she finds out that he has dirtied his school pants (again) from intentionally falling on his butt on the baseball field. One time Donghyuck hit the ball too far and Jisung stupidly ran while having his eyes glued to the ball. He didn’t look where he was going and ended up running into the side of a trashcan and falling inside. He smelled like rotten eggs and sour kimbap for the remaining hours of the day.

Baseball for Jisung is everything. It reminds him of being nine and his brother thirteen, his dad pitching and hitting to them. It was a simpler time. A time where crushes weren’t a thing yet. A time where love was easy to him. His whole life up till now has been shaped around baseball. He throws and swings and catches and it’s simple. So simple yet it makes him so happy every time he’s on the field. It’s easy.

He smiles.

The sky is painted sunset orange when Donghyuck chases Jaemin around the field with his bat. He looks up just as an airplane flies across, piercing through a pink sunset cloud and hears Jaemin tell Donghyuck to stop fucking around.

“You can’t even hit the ball what makes you think you can hit me!”

“I’ll kill you, Jaemin! I swear to fuckin’ god!”

Jisung stands up to dust his pants and takes his helmet off.

“Hyung,” he says and the both of them stop to look at him. “Hagwon is calling. We should pack up now?”

“Okay,” Jaemin says and Donghyuck whips his head around, staring down at Jaemin. “My dad is a lawyer,” he says, fists up in defense. Jisung laughs because—

“And so is mine?” Donghyuck says, lowering his bat to the ground. “You idiot, they’re legal partners. Oh my god, Jisung, this is your hyung? Really?”

The three of them spend approximately ten minutes outside the gate of their school later, playing rock-paper-scissors to determine where to eat and who is going to treat them for food after hagwon lessons. Jisung wins the first round and Jaemin wins the next. Jisung high fives Donghyuck as Jaemin clutches his other hand, holding out scissors. Lost to Donghyuck’s rock.

“If you’re telling me you’re going to Zhong Palace _again_ ,” Jaemin says, sighing. Jaemin pulls on the strap of his backpack. Zhong Palace isn’t pricey but admittedly, they’ve been there too often, Donghyuck especially. Jaemin perks up suddenly. “But then I’ll meet Renjun—”

“No, I won’t, hyung,” he cuts off quickly. He’s sure he is somewhat a hazard to the business if Chenle keeps feeding him all these food. “Kinda just want, like, tteokbokki, to be honest.”

Jaemin lets out a sigh of relief.

“Thank fuck,” he says.

Class is bearable, at least to Jisung. The time spent in English class is directly proportional to how close his forehead is getting to the surface of his desk.

Jisung’s English lexicon is, in every sense of the word, very limited. He knows one (1) big word (quintessential) but he stares at his English workbook and it stares back, taunting him. He taps the page continuously with his pen as he ponders over the line over and over again. _Often rebuked, yet always back returning / To those first feelings that were born with me_. He highlights the words _rebuked_ and _feelings_ with his pen three times, the neon yellow hard to miss. He carefully threads through the poem again and tries saying them, the word _rebuked_ too rough and sharp around his tongue.

The teacher announces a five minute break then and his forehead meets his book. Sighs.

“Hey,” he hears, then a hand on his shoulder. “You okay?”

He turns his head to his left, cheeks pressed against the words of Bronte. Chenle’s eyebrows are knitted in concern. “Yeah,” he answers, offering Chenle a weak smile. “I just don’t get poets.”

A rich statement coming from him, whose room is littered with pretentious prose and colourful language. He doesn’t dare pick any of them up and flatten them out, reading their contents. He lets it lay there under his heel and rot.

“What is it that you don’t get?” Chenle says, dragging his chair across the linoleum to sit closer. It’s a little odd — but a nice kind of odd — the way they have been getting closer over the days, over the weeks. Jisung a year ago would never think he would be in close relations with The Zhong Chenle. Now Chenle’s pushing his head off the workbook and reads the page. “Why’d you highlight _rebuked_ and _feelings_?”

Jisung corrects his posture. Sits up straight.

“Don’t understand.”

Chenle picks up a pencil from the clutter on Jisung’s desk. He draws an arrow from rebuked to the margins and writes: doesn’t like the feeling, so poet pushes the feeling away.

“It’s like,” Chenle says, still writing down. He’s drawing a cloud around the note. He looks up at Jisung, eyelashes fluttering against his cheek. “You don’t like this certain feeling, so you push it away, you know? Like when you like someone and you don’t like it so you just repress the feeling.”

Jisung nods. Yeah. He’s not good with that.

“I see,” he says. He hopes Chenle doesn’t feel the heat radiating off of him. “And _feelings_?”

“ _Feelings_ is gamjeong,” Chenle replies and draws another arrow. He writes the hangul for feelings at the side and draws another cloud around it, the sound of pencil scratching against the paper somewhat comforting. “You get the concept of the first half of the stanza now?”

Jisung gulps. “Yeah,” he says, eyes carefully going over the words. “So,” he trails. “Basically...the poet was born with this feeling and tries to push it away. But it keeps coming back?”

Chenle nods, grinning wide. “Yeah!” He says, excitedly and holds his palm up for a high five. Jisung slaps his palm happily. Chenle’s excitement is truly contagious. They grin.

“We should.” Chenle pauses, gnawing on his bottom lip. Jisung tilts his head to the side.

“Yeah?”

“We should study together,” he blurts out and Jisung knows from the look on his face it comes as a surprise, too. His eyes are wide and is about to say something, probably to add on a _but_ but Jisung’s quicker.

“I’d love to,” he says and yeah, he totally didn’t expect himself to say that either. “I mean,” he corrects himself as a smile spreads across Chenle’s face. “I would totally like that.”

“Yeah?” Chenle says. The teacher walks back in then and their other classmates slowly start to enter the classroom. But for that one second, it felt like it was just the two of them. Jisung blinks and his whole world goes back to its axis.

“Yeah.”

 

 

Lunch period comes around and everyone’s quick to leave class. Jisung hears the loud and heavy footsteps from the corridor as he slowly pushes his chair out and stands up. Yeojin next to him stands up too, shrugging her school blazer on.

“Lunch with me right?” She asks and Jisung shoots her a puzzled look.

“Of course,” he answers, pushing his chair in and waits for Yeojin. She rummages her bag for her cartoon frog purse, a mirror, and her phone. On the back of her phone is a photocard of Seokjin from BTS. She pushes her chair in, too, and looks up, frowning.

“You haven’t been spending any time with me nowadays,” she whines, linking arms with him as they make their way towards the cafeteria. Jisung rolls his eyes. Her pout deepens and she whines even more. “You’re always with Donghyuck oppa or Jaemin oppa, if not then with Seonho or even Chenle! Are you leaving me in the dust, Park Jisung?”

Jisung’s face warms up at the mere mention of Chenle. There’s some truth in what Yeojin has said — it’s true that he’s been spending more time with his teammates because, well, they practice together a lot. Chenle, however.

Chenle is a new addition to the bouts of complaints Yeojin always has. He scrunches his nose and sighs.

“Hey, I don’t complain when you’re hanging out with Chaerin or Hwanhee.” He’s deflecting, he knows.

They make their way down the stairs, a struggle really because while Yeojin is adamant on still having their arms linked together, she is shorter than him by, well, a lot. Jisung has to bend down when they walk. They reach the entrance and Yeojin stands on her tiptoes and flicks Jisung’s forehead.

Jisung gasps, pressing his palm over his forehead.

“You’re deflecting,” she says, narrowing her eyes at him. “You’re not telling me something, Park Jisung.”

“Me? Lying to you? My other half? My twin? The love of my life?”

Yeojin fake gags and pushes Jisung off her with all her power, which isn’t much to start with. Jisung laughs as Yeojin visibly cringes and picks up a metal tray.

“You’re disgusting,” she says as she waits in line. Jisung’s right behind her and hums as a reply. He ladles out some miso soup into his bowl and moves along. She turns around. “What’s with you and Chenle by the way?”

Jisung almost drops the tongs into the food tray. He stutters out a, “What do you mean?”

The line moves and Yeojin hums as she goes through her options for side dishes. “You know,” she says. “Since when were you close to him? Not like it’s bad. Just curious.”

“Nothing. Just friends,” he says and it’s true. He’s not lying. They have nothing between them. Well, except for Chenle shoving free food to him. Yeojin gives him a look. He frowns. “I mean it! Really!”

“Alright,” she says, smiling. “Just friends,” she sing-songs, plucking a pair of chopsticks from the utensils container and stalking off towards a table at the very end of the room, overlooking the football field. Jisung stares at her back and sighs.

Jisung hasn’t explicitly said he likes Chenle to anyone as of yet. Donghyuck and Jaemin are simply teasing him and it’s fine, as long as he doesn’t agree nor disagree. He just goes with it, like he usually does with a lot of things they do. Yeojin will know. Sooner or later, everyone will. He goes to Yeojin’s table and finds Chenle sitting across her, face puzzled.

Shit.

Yeojin turns around then and waves a hand at him. Chenle does, too and smiles. Oh. He’s really cute.

“Jisungie,” Yeojin says. “Look, who’s here.” She turns around to squint her eyes at Chenle. Chenle stares back at her and pulls a funny face. Jisung laughs.

“Jisung-ah, she says I’m stealing you away from her,” Chenle complains.

“That’s right! You’re a best friend stealer!”

“Hey,” Jisung calls and takes a seat next to Yeojin and flicks her forehead. “How old are you? Five?”

Yeojin keeps poking fun at Chenle for stealing her best friend throughout lunch and Chenle plays along well, saying, “he’s all yours to keep, Yeojin, honestly,” which to be quite honest, hurt Jisung a bit but then he says something like, “and what if I’m stealing him away from you? What’s wrong with that?” which Yeojin blanks at and picks her spoon up and knocks Chenle’s head with it.

`sorry chenle` Jisung texts him in class during free period. `yeojin’s always like this if ure wondering hhh`

He sees Chenle typing on his phone underneath his desk and a second later, a text comes in.

`it’s okay hehe`   
`it’s really cute how she thinks im stealing u`   
`from her  
` `r u guys…?`

Jisung grimaces and glances at Yeojin sitting next to him. She’s drooling. He types back a quick reply.

`NO!!!!!!!!!!!!`   
`EW`   
`she’s like my sister that’s so`   
`gross omg. chenle ew`

He hears Chenle snicker. Then, `ure so dramatic`.

`i’m not >:(`

`hehe cute`

Jisung carefully places his phone on the top of his desk and takes a deep breath. If he was alone, at home, or anywhere where there was no one, he would have screamed. Instead he takes deep breaths. Chenle just called him cute. Chenle called him _cute_. _Chenle_. He rests his forehead on the desk and exhales loudly.

“Fuck,” he breathes. “I’m so gay.”

 

 

The first time it happened, of course it took Jisung by surprise. It had flustered Jisung, resulting in him going through a two day crisis pondering over the importance of the five extra dumplings laid on a red ceramic plate like he was studying for Korean Literature. What do the five extra dumplings mean? What does the colour red signify? [10 Marks]

The second time, Seonho had teased him endlessly, thankfully not putting Chenle into the narrative — along with the rest of the team — and he had scavenged for the list again underneath his desk. Chenle said it was because they are friends. Seonho said Chenle likes you, are you an idiot or something. He had written _he gave me another plate of dumplings, he’s trying to dethrone me as the cutest by making me chubbier_ as reason number five, which he promptly crossed over in red ink and chucked back underneath his desk.

The third time — the third time, well, Jisung isn’t going to lie. He kind of expected it but at the same time, he kind of didn’t. It was winter break when his father had asked him to order Chinese takeout and he did. And the person on the other line was no other than Zhong Chenle.

“Hi,” he had said, voice soft and warm. A contrast to the weather outside. “What would you like to order?”

There are two containers of shengjian mantou, one with a star sticker on it and written on the top with black marker is _jisungie, enjoy!_

(`chenle` he had sent and Chenle’s immediate reply was `no worries jisungie!!` Jisung had lied flat on the ground then and promptly died. Because that’s what you do when your crush calls your name in an affectionate manner. You die.)

But the fourth time comes around, and Jisung stares down at an egg tart on a small cerulean ceramic dish.

“Chenle—”

“On the house,” Chenle says, eyes turning into two straight lines on his face and his smile open. “You’re my friend!”

And god damn it that same goddamn excuse.

“But you really shouldn’t have,” Jisung stumbles over his words, feeling Donghyuck and Jeno’s stare on the side of his face. It burns. He offers a small smile to Chenle. “Thank you, Chenle.”

“No worries!” And then he walks back to the kitchen and Jisung turns around. He bares his teeth at the both of them and says, “Shut up.”

“We didn’t say anything.” Jeno laughs, eyes crescent. He turns to Donghyuck and asks him fondly, “Were we this awkward before we started dating?”

Jisung gags and breaks the egg tart with his spoon.

They’re walking back to their apartment block — Jeno lives in Block A, Jisung in Block B, and Donghyuck in Block C — when Donghyuck drops him a bomb.

“Chenle never gives me free food,” Donghyuck says, pouting. “That’s not fair. I’ve been his friend _and_ customer much longer!”

Jisung’s heart stops a little because if Chenle doesn’t do it to his own club’s vice president then why in the hell would he give free food to Park Jisung, who, before all this, rarely talked to him?

“Maybe ‘cause you’re so mean to him,” Jeno says, interrupting Jisung’s thoughts. He takes off running towards the playground as Donghyuck chases him, yelling bloody murder.

Right. Maybe because Chenle has seen how nice Jisung is; he’s a nice person and Seonho and Donghyuck aren’t. That is why they aren’t eligible for free food. Seems probable enough for him.

 

 

Yeojin, despite whining about how much she doesn’t want to study on a Saturday morning, still wakes up ten minutes earlier than Jisung. It’s a continuous `where r u` sent multiple times in a span of a minute until Jisung wakes up, groaning. He goes _shit shit shit_ when he looks at the time. 9.14am. He promised to meet Yeojin and Chenle at the library at 9.30am.

Yeojin calls then, the ringing blaring in his ears. He picks up.

“I just,” he says, voice rough from sleep. He coughs once, wrestling himself out of his blanket and heads to the en suite bathroom. “Woke up.”

“Hm. I can tell.”

“Fuck off,” he grumbles. “I’ll see you in a jiff. Bye!”

Jisung doesn’t make it on time. He doesn’t take the bus and decides stupidly to just run to the city centre under eight minutes and runs up to the second floor. It’s 9.34am. He leans against the doorframe, heaving. Someone taps him on the shoulder.

“We saw you running,” Chenle says, squeezing his shoulder. Jisung could only offer him a weak smile. Yeojin trails behind him and sticks her tongue out at him.

“What a loser,” she chides and Jisung tugs on her ponytail. She yelps, earning a glare from the receptionist behind the counter. He mouths _brat_ at her as they walk through the cubicles and sit on a round table at a corner.

They sit like this: Chenle, Jisung, Yeojin. Chenle studies meticulously with workbooks tabbed in various colours, pages highlighted just enough and sticky notes on the margins. His pencil box only has the essentials: two pens, a mechanical pencil, a ruler, an eraser, and one neon yellow highlighter. Yeojin studies with all her books spread out in front of her, her pen that has a pink pom pom at the end of it perched over a notebook, and pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose every three minutes. She writes fast and her writing is almost illegible. Jisung thinks she’s going to be a doctor if she keeps this up. Jisung studies like a copy and paste machine. He rewrites back what he reads, in a more simple and easier way. No colours, no methods. Just rewriting. Ctrl+C, Ctrl+V.

At the one hour mark, Jisung stretches his legs underneath him and hits Chenle’s ankle. Chenle hums.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, rubbing his eyes together. He stretches his arms over his head and looks to his side. He chuckles.

Yeojin’s books are open and her ears are stuffed with her earphones but her eyes are droopy and her writing is getting slower. He turns to Chenle.

“You’re not tired?” He asks and Chenle does the same, stretches his arms over his head.

“I fucking,” he begins and Jisung eyes widen. He laughs. “I fucking hate Korean literature, you know?”

“What are you studying? Yi Yuksa?” Jisung says, leaning over to take a peek at Chenle’s notebook. He feels a tug on his right and twists his neck around to look to the right.

“Please wake me up in, like, fifteen minutes,” Yeojin mutters before she puts her arms on the table and uses them as a pillow. She hits dreamland in under five seconds.

“She always like this?” Chenle chuckles. Jisung nods solemnly. It’ll be a miracle if Yeojin studied without taking at least three naps in between. “Anyway, yeah. Yi Yuksa.”

Jisung hums. “Great dude.”

“Sure,” Chenle says, rolling his eyes. He flips a page on his textbook, reads through a few lines before turning back to look at Jisung. “Jisung-ah,” he calls.

“Yeah?”

“Do you…” He trails, gnawing on his bottom lip. He is fiddling with the wires of his earphones and twirls it around his index finger. He puffs out his cheeks and asks, “Do you like anyone?”

It’s a rush of a lot of things. A crackle of thunder, crashing of cymbals, a glass breaking, and Jisung cracks an awkward smile.

“I,” he starts and it’s already beginning to sound like the start of a bad and terrible high school drama. He folds his lips inside. “I don’t really know.”

Chenle quirks an eyebrow at him. Asks, “You don’t know?”

“I mean—” How does he reiterate his point? He doesn’t know as in he meant he doesn’t know if he should say yes when the person he likes is the boy that is sitting in front of him right now. What if he says yes and Chenle asks, who? What does he say then? “—I think I like them but.” He clears his throat. His stomach churns, cheeks burning. “But I’ve never... liked someone, so I don’t, you know, I don’t really know that feeling.”

Chenle settles with staring at him as if studying him. Jisung swallows thickly under his gaze, wishing the ground would swallow him up. Was he easy to read? Can Chenle tell? He hopes not. This isn’t what he imagined how it would be.

He imagined it like this: him growing old as shit, watching Chenle fall in love with other people and him never finding his one true love because it’s always been Zhong Chenle. Because in every universe they exist in, Chenle doesn’t fall for Jisung.

Jisung grips his pencil hard.

“So you do like someone,” Chenle states. “You just don’t know if it’s romantic?”

“Uh,” Jisung ponders. “I suppose, yeah.”

“Tell me,” Chenle says, leaning forward, fingers linking with each other. Chenle looks like a therapist. “Do you want to, like, hold their hand?”

Jisung’s eyes flit down to Chenle’s linked fingers.

“Yeah,” he replies truthfully. His heart is threatening to slip out of his sleeves. He shifts in his seat. “Do you — do you like someone?”

Chenle smiles. “Yeah,” he replies quickly. “I want to hold his hand a lot.”

Jisung feels like the air is punched out of him and his lungs burn, like he swallowed the sun.

Chenle said _his_. Jisung feels like sweating, even while sitting under the air conditioner. They stare at each other before Jisung looks away

“That’s nice,” Jisung says, too long to be an afterthought but better than leaving it hanging. Chenle’s smile is smaller this time. A little sad. Fuck. “I—” He curls and uncurls his fist. “—I like a guy, too.”

He hears the whir of the air conditioner above them and Jisung reaches down to wipes his palms against the top of his thighs. A beat later, Chenle goes, “Yeah?”

Jisung shoots him a smile. “Yeah.”

 

 

Jisung bumps into Donghyuck and Jaemin during his after school study session as he exits the toilet. Donghyuck has his baseball cap strapped to the handle of his backpack, sweat trickling down the sides of his face. His blazer’s long gone, same with Jaemin, as they walk past the second years’ toilet. Jisung spots them down the hall and screams, "Jaemin hyung! Donghyuck hyung!"

Donghyuck’s first to turn around and his face lights up, beaming. “Jisungie,” he says. He takes quick steps to reach Jisung, reaches forward to pinch his cheek and giggles. “I know something you don’t,” he sing-songs and Jaemin standing next to him wiggles his eyebrows at him.

“What?” He said, eyes wide. When they remain silent, Jisung presses on. “Hyung, _what_?”

“I know why Chenle gives you free food,” he announces, chin jutting out, proud.

Jisung flushes. “And?”

“And I won’t tell you,” he declares proudly, crossing his arms. Jisung whines. “But,” he says, suddenly soft. “You know how everyone’s love language is different?”

Jisung frowns. “Yeah?” He says.

“Then connect the dots, dumbo,” Jaemin says and he’s reaching out, which means—

“Hyung,” he whines as Jaemin pinches both of his cheeks. He gives one last and hard squeeze before he lets go. Jisung’s cheeks are red. Jaemin pats his head.

“You’ll work it out,” he says, winking. He tugs Donghyuck by the elbow away and turn a corner and then they’re gone. Jisung stands in the middle of the corridor, puzzled.

He slips back inside his classroom through the back door and sees the back of Chenle’s head, bobbing up and down, airpods in his ears. He smiles. Cute. He goes to his own seat and shoves his earphones back in then unlocks his phone. A click. _I Like Me Better_ starts to play. Swipe, swipe. Then he types: love languages.

What shows up on Naver results is a song by Kehlani and a book. He goes through the description of the book and gets bits and pieces of it because they’re in English. Something about how there are five and he only understands physical touch and the word acts but he doesn’t understand the rest of that phrase. He thinks nothing of it and locks his phone back and puts his phone on his desk, face down. Yeojin next to him closes her notebook and rests her head on it.

Jisung spends a good chunk of his after school study session spamming their group chat with `i hate you` several times. He wakes up the next morning and receives one (1) `jisungie don’t hate us :c` from Jaemin and two (2) `i hate you too` from Donghyuck. The third text from Donghyuck is `now i really won’t tell u! :P`

Jisung groans.

 

 

The beginning of spring break finds Jisung getting dragged out of his house, from the comforts of his bed by his hyungs. Jaemin has a way with words, this everyone knows, and no one is safe from it — not even Jisung’s mum. So he wakes up on a Saturday morning to Jaemin squeezing his cheeks.

“Jisungie,” he calls, voice sickening. Jisung grumbles and rolls over to the side of his bed. He buries his head deeper into the plush softness of his pillow.

“Your room is so messy,” he hears Donghyuck comment. “So many strips of papers—”

“Don’t!” Jisung’s suddenly wide awake. He raises one hand out and turns towards Donghyuck. “Please don’t touch any of those. I’m getting up, I’m getting up. Please don’t touch anything—” He turns to Jaemin. “— _anything_ ,” he repeats it again, just to make sure it gets through both of his hyungs’ thick skulls. “In this room.”

“Damn,” Donghyuck says under his breath. “What is it anyway? Love poetry?”

Jisung turns to glare Donghyuck and kicks his blanket off him.

“No,” he lies outright and stalks off into his bathroom.

When he steps out of his bathroom, feeling fresh and clean, he spots Jaemin and Donghyuck lying down on his unmade bed, scrolling through their phones. He glances at the mess underneath his desk and lets out a sigh of relief. They are still crumpled, waiting to rot.

Donghyuck perks up. “Is the prince done?” He asks.

Jaemin’s on his feet in a second and grins wide, basically shaking with excitement.

“Jisung, let’s go,” he exclaims. “We’re gonna meet the love of my life!”

So the beginning of spring break finds Jisung squished in a booth with Jeno, Donghyuck, and Jaemin at Zhong Palace. Chenle doesn’t take their order this time. He sits behind the counter, writing in his workbook. Renjun looks at everyone at the table except Jaemin.

“What are you guys having?” Renjun asks. Renjun is a five foot six something full of rage, according to Chenle, but Jaemin is still heart eyes, palms under his chin as he blinks up at Renjun. The smile Jisung offers Renjun is awkward. He’s a little scared, he won’t lie.

Jeno laughs into his palm after Renjun walks away, face red.

“Jaemin-ah,” Jeno chuckles. “You keep that up and I think he’ll hit you.”

“At least he’ll be touching me,” he says and adds a wink at the end. Jisung wishes he could smack Jaemin. Donghyuck can, so he does. He smacks Jaemin’s head. “What!”

“I’ll hit you first.”

Their lunch goes just as well as all their previous meetups; loud, boisterous, always excited. Jeno talks about his classes, his track team and Jisung wonders how it would be if he had went to Jeno’s school instead. He would probably have a more quiet and calmer school environment. He thinks of Jaemin hollering his name down the hallway, thinks of Yeojin screeching for him from the top of the stairs and sighs. His school is loud. Even _Chenle_ is. But he likes Chenle’s loudness. Okay, so he’s biased, so what?

Chenle takes Jisung’s empty plate off the table and exchanges it with a slice of bai tang gao on a plate. Jisung cracks a grin.

“Because I’m your friend?” He asks and Chenle’s cheeks flushes red. He takes a bite.

“Yeah?” He says, a tilt in his voice.

“Chenle, is it _really_ because he’s your friend or—”

“Donghyuck hyung!” Chenle exclaims, eyes wide. The tint on his cheeks seem to only turn brighter. Donghyuck’s smile is wicked, staring at the back of Chenle’s head as he walks away from the table and heads into the kitchen.

“Sure,” he says, shrugging. “A friend.”

Jaemin twists his body around then. Faces the counter, where Renjun is seated behind it on a bar stool. He has one of his earphones plugged in his ear, legs swinging as he writes down on his book.

“Renjunnie,” Jaemin calls sweetly. Renjun sighs and looks up, expression deadpan. “How come I don’t get any free food from you?”

“You’re not cute,” Renjun replies flatly. “We only give cute people free food.”

He goes back to his work and plugs the other earphone into his other ear. The laughter that erupts from their table fills the whole damn restaurant.

(A week later, Jaemin stumbles into their locker room, thirty minutes before practice with an announcement.

“Anyone wants an update on my love life?”

“How?” Donghyuck asks, one brow raised. He opens his locker and takes out his gym clothes. “You don’t have one.”

“Hey now,” Jaemin says, pointing an accusing finger at Donghyuck. Jisung perks up, too, curious. “I’ll have you know Huang Renjun gave me an egg tart just now after class.”

Jisung’s mouth is wide with surprise but the feeling is quickly gone when Donghyuck rolls his eyes.

“He threw it at you, idiot,” he says, shaking his head. “Did you forget I was there or?”

Jaemin shakes his head with a faint smile on his face.

“That’s not the point here, Mr Lee Donghyuck,” Jaemin says, wagging his finger at him. “He gave me free food. He came over, all the way from his school and hurled it towards my direction. That means he finds me _cute_.” He turns to Jisung then an offers him his fist. “We’re the same now, Jisung Park.”

Jisung bumps his fist against Jaemin’s weakly.)

 

 

Yeojin comes over one Saturday morning because they have a big important science project to make, something about genetics or, listen, Jisung doesn’t give a shit. What Jisung gives a shit about is however, when he turns around on his bed where he has manila papers and rulers and mechanical pencils sprawled out all over his bed, he sees Yeojin sitting underneath his desk, smoothing out crumpled papers and grinning.

Yeojin sighs, hand over forehead. “I know your sea like the back of my hand—”

“Hey!” Jisung screams and falls over his bed with a loud thud. Yeojin cackles. He groans then and makes a crawl towards his desk. But Yeojin’s quicker. She scoots away but not before grabbing another piece of paper from the pile — the _goddamned_ Uniqlo receipt and recites:

“Why Chenle isn’t cute,” she says, raising an eyebrow at him before she clears her throat and juts her chin out. “Reason one: out of my league — okay, hey now, Jisung.” Her hand holding onto the list falls on her lap and shoots Jisung a look that’s a cross between a little hurt and a little mad. “Why in the hell would you say that about yourself?”

Jisung groans and curls into himself, hands clutching the sides of his head.

“It’s just,” he says and stretches his body out over the wooden flooring of his room. His socked feet hits Yeojin’s knee in the process but she doesn’t flinch, just continues to stare. Expectant. He sighs. “He’s just — really cute, you know?”

Yeojin hums and crosses her legs, palm under her chin. “Have you ever entertained the fact that he might also find you cute?” Yeojin asks, rolling her eyes when Jisung shoots her a glare.

“Do _you_ find me cute?” Jisung retorts and Yeojin fake gags, hand over mouth.

“I’ve seen you suck your goddamn toes as a kid,” she replies. “No way in hell.”

They work in silence for the first time in their seventeen years of living. Jisung hears the scratch of pencil against paper as Yeojin writes the letter X. Then an O. Then—

“I’m sorry,” Jisung whispers because if it’s any louder, it’ll be more real. Yeojin goes _hmm_ and turns to look at him. “I’m sorry I think so... badly of myself but you know. Finding a boy cute kinda sucks when I'm—” Yeojin narrows her eyes at him. He swallows. “— _also_ cute.”

A smile blooms on Yeojin’s face as she abandons her work to reach over to Jisung and hold his face in her hands.

“This is our first sort of, kind of love crisis—”

“I do _not_ love him—”

“—in our friendship,” she continues and squishes Jisung's cheeks together. “I want to help. I always knew you had something going on with Chenle. No wonder you're suddenly so close to him. You want me to like? Ask his type? If he likes Ken over Barbie, or Taemin over Krystal—”

“Please stop,” Jisung begs.

“Hey, I’m just saying,” Yeojin says, shrugging and leans back, slides her hands off Jisung’s face. “I won’t make it awkward or whatever,” she adds and the metaphorical bulb in Jisung’s head turns on.

“Actually,” he says carefully, on his knees. Yeojin sits with her back ramrod straight and nods. Eyes wide alert. She looks like an eager to please yorkshire terrier puppy.

(`CHENLE DOESN’T GIVE ME FUCKING FREE FOOD` is what lentil bean yeojinnie sends over KKT at 10.03pm. `wtf and the fact that ive also came here before TT____TT` Jisung’s a little happy at Yeojin’s outrage. Pleased. Yeojin is undoubtedly a very nice friend to Chenle, unlike Seonho who bullies Chenle for answers for their mathematics homework. So he doesn’t only do this to nice people. Maybe he just does this to him. He considers the next possible reason: he finds you cute too.)

 

 

“Why do you keep giving me all these extra food?” Jisung demands one day, the moment he steps inside class. He heads straight to Chenle’s desk, his Vans backpack still strapped tight on his back. He frowns. “No, tell me, really. Chenle, what are you? Some sort of? Sugar daddy of Chinese food or something?”

Chenle laughs and it’s too goddamn early to hear angels singing. “I told you! (yes, yes, you have but it’s _stupid_ , so I have elected to ignore it) It’s because you’re my friend (really?) and—”

“Dumpling daddy,” Jisung says finally and the way it rolls out of his tongue added with the look of mortification that crosses Chenle’s face is enough to send him into fits of laughter, hand covering his face. “That’s what you are, Chenle! A dumpling daddy!”

Chenle’s cheeks are red. It’s probably warm, too. Jisung kinda wants to cup those cheeks. He opens his pretty pink mouth and huffs out, “I told you it’s because you’re my _friend!_  If you don’t like it that much then—”

“Yeojin said she didn’t get extras.”

Chenle deflates. “Huh.”

“Yeojin,” he repeats and jerks his head towards Yeojin, her head on her desk but mind probably in another plane of existence where she isn’t being used as a human crutch to prove Chenle kinda likes him (too.) “She said she didn’t get extras the last time she was there. She’s our friend, too, isn’t she?” Chenle’s fair the way sometimes you could see the blue and green hues of his veins on his cheeks. The redness, Jisung thinks, is much more prettier. Chenle pouts.

The bell rings then and Jisung doesn’t know if it’s saved Chenle’s ass or his.

`i like ur dumplings lele` Jisung sends. After their conversation they unfortunately (on Chenle’s side) had this morning, he’s made sure to ignore Jisung the entirety of the school day and made sure Jisung knows he’s ignoring him (“Yeojin, can you tell the person next to you to hand in their prints to Ms Kim by the end of the class?” Chenle had said, to which Yeojin replied, face blank, “I don’t want in on any of your household problems right now.”) Jisung smiles when he sees Chenle has read his text.

`i really appreciate it`  
`im sorry for this morning!!`  
`i was just`  
`you know  
` `curious`

`it’s bc ur cute stupid` Jisung reads. His heart does a thing or two. He temporarily switches apps — yes, leaving Chenle on read — opens Naver and searches: MY HEART’S BEATING SO FAST WHAT DO I DO.

 

 

Jisung ends up not only being acquainted with the smell of Chinese food in the air and Jaemin’s constant pestering of _when are we going to Zhong Palace again_ — he also gets acquainted with Kun, the owner of Zhong Palace’s Jeju island branch (“Mama’s in Seoul ‘cause she’s trying to make Zhong Palace the next Kimbap Cheonguk,” Chenle says one day, cramming three prawn crackers into his mouth in one go. An impressive feat. Jisung bites his tongue from commenting maybe they should have opened it in front of JNU, no?) and is Chenle’s uncle. Jisung thinks Kun likes him but also thinks not because of all the free food Chenle’s been feeding him. He probably knows and also probably kind of detests Jisung a little. Just a little.

Then there’s Chenle’s cousins. Sicheng, the oldest, who is a student at JNU and makes the best stir fry anything. And one of two of the Huang brothers, Xuxi, who as soon as he sees Chenle’s arm linked with his, goes, “Aw, cute.”

The other Huang is Huang Renjun, the boy who goes to the same school as Jeno, and the boy Jaemin harbours a crush on because he’s mean to him — Jisung doesn’t question his ways. He likes Renjun a little more than the rest because he treats him like how he treats Chenle: not that nice. But it’s nice, too, because he reminds him the most of his older brother who is all the way across the globe.

Renjun flicks his forehead.

“Hey,” Renjun calls, from across the table, waving his hand in front of Jisung’s face. “Park Jisung.”

“Yes,” he replies, breaking away from his daze. He doesn’t realise that he has been staring at the kitchen door where Chenle had just disappeared into, to get more snacks for them. On usual days they would meet at the public library to study with Yeojin but today isn’t a usual day and Jisung had to fish out for his pocket money for the bus fare when he wakes up to Chenle’s `lets study at the restaurant today ^^`. Yeojin wasn’t able to make it. Something about a pet snail. He blinks once, twice. “Yes,” he says again.

“You like Chenle, don’t you?” Renjun says and Jisung — Jisung, okay, he kind of wishes there was a hole underneath him right now that works the same way as those rubbish disposals in kitchen sinks. But there is no hole and it’s not like he can just leave the chat on read.

It’s like the frame of his life-movie froze. Static. Rewind, rewind. _You like Chenle, don’t you?_ His fingers hover stupidly over his Home Economics textbook. He frowns and looks at Renjun straight in the face.

“Why are you asking me this?” He asks and crosses and uncrosses his ankles under the table. “What about you and Jaemin hyung?”

Renjun crumples a piece of tissue he retrieved from the centre of the table and tosses it in Jisung’s face. At least it wasn’t used.

“You’re deflecting,” he snickers. Jisung wipes his palms at the top of his thighs. “Which further proves the point that you do.”

“Uh-huh,” Jisung says and prays to god the colour of his ears or cheeks or neck doesn’t betray him. “And you deflected my question about Jaemin hyung, so following your theory—”

“I _will_ go over there and choke you, Park Jisung,” he warns, eyes narrowed dark and Jisung sticks his tongue out at him. It’s fun not being the only one with a Cute Boy Problem.

 

 

“Jisung, catch!”

Jisung’s eyes widen, watching the ramen cup fly mid air and stretches his arms forward to reach for it. Of course, he catches it but it leaves Jisung out of breath and in frustration, he hurls it back to Jaemin.

“You're a dick.”

Jaemin laughs and catches it. He throws the ramen cup upwards in his hands and catches it again. “Our best catcher, the one and only! My bro,” he says and shrugs. He says the _bro_ part in English and Jisung rolls his eyes. “So how was class?”

Jisung groans. He's always hated mathematics and it is proven yet again when his teacher hands them back their papers from the last surprise quiz. She handed it back to Jisung folded and looks at him through her glasses, frowning. Jisung can only manage a smile that probably looked more like a grimace than anything.

“Terrible.”

Jaemin hums as a reply and peels the lid off the cup. He presses Hot on the water dispenser and they both watch as boiling hot water spills into the cup. Jisung does the same, peeling the lid off the cup and waits for his turn.

“Hyung, I don't understand why'd you go so far to 7-Eleven when CU is next to our hagwon,” Jisung says as Jaemin mixes his own ramen.

“You'd want to third and fourth wheel Jeno and Donghyuck?” Jaemin snickers and covers the cup again. “Besides, it's crowded.”

“Yeah but it's closer.”

Jaemin tchs. “This kid.”

They sit facing the street, waiting for their ramen to finish cooking and sit in comfortable silence. Jisung’s tapping through his Instagram stories when Jaemin nudges Jisung’s arm.

“Hey,” comes Jaemin’s voice; soft and comforting. “You okay?”

“Yes?”

“Your Chenle problem,” Jaemin says and Jisung slumps his shoulder forward. Sighs. “Aw, my poor baby. Do you like him that much?”

“Is it obvious?”

“Kind of,” Jaemin points out, shrugging. Jisung peels back his ramen cover and sticks his chopsticks into the cup. Stirs them. Then, “You gonna do anything about it?”

“No,” Jisung answers a little quickly. “I don’t — I don’t know, hyung. ‘M not really eager to have my heart broken.”

Jaemin laughs and peels back his own ramen cover. “No one is,” he sighs, stirring his ramen together. “You’re so confident he doesn’t like you back. Why is that?”

Jisung shrugs. So far he has an inkling of what Chenle feels towards him. Chenle might like him, Chenle might not. Jisung really doesn’t know — Chenle’s his first. His first crush. He'd rather have it tasting bittersweet.

“Just,” he starts. “There’s that possibility.”

“Have you ever—” Jaemin points at Jisung with his chopsticks “—entertained the fact that Chenle might like you, too?”

He has. Of course, he has. Sometimes when he can’t sleep he thinks of having Chenle in his arms, holding his hand and the warmth spreads through his chest before he heads to dreamland.

Jisung groans. “You’re asking me so many questions, hyung,” he mumbles and stirs the ramen in his cup, watches the scallions float onto the surface.

“That’s love, baby,” Jaemin says with a wink.

The thing about Chenle is that Jisung thinks he’ll be okay if they just remain friends.

It’s pathetic. But it’s a nice thought to hold Chenle’s hand, to be in love, to exist in a universe where Chenle does fall for Jisung. But Jisung is scared. He’s seventeen years old and the biggest crisis he currently has is a boy who laughs like a goddamn dolphin. Maybe this feeling will pass, maybe it won’t.

But for now what Jisung knows for sure is that he really, really likes Chenle.

He closes his eyes and let himself exist in a world where they fall in love. This time Jisung’s chest doesn’t ache.

 

 

Jisung decides, a little too late and a little too adrenaline induced, to consult a grand total of three people in his life about the storm in his heart and the boy that resides in it.

1) Jaemin (which entails Donghyuck in the end)

Jisung meets Jaemin at the CU tucked at the corner of the street, in between their hagwon and a Honda car dealership.

It’s a little too late to be out because his class ended thirty minutes ago but he had very nicely plucked Jaemin out from the sea of fourth years and asks, “Can you help me?”

They sit on one of the white and green tables in the store. Jisung watches Jaemin suck on the lollipop he had bought for him as a form of payment for his help. He ponders over Jisung’s words and pulls the lollipop out of his mouth with a loud pop.

“You sure it isn’t platonic?” Jaemin asks, inspecting the lollipop in his hand.

“Yeah,” Jisung breathes. The ahjussi behind the counter watches them suspiciously and looks back down at his phone. It’s a little weird to finally have it out there into the world. _I like Chenle_. It’s easy-breezy and leaves Jisung’s chest feeling a little bit lighter. “I'm sure this time. I want to kiss him. And you know.” He clears his throat and looks away. “Hold his hand.”

“Friends kiss, too,” Jaemin says and to prove his point, he reaches across the table and grabs onto Jisung’s hand. “I hold your hand, too.”

But when Jisung thinks of Chenle he also thinks of the love his parents share, the way his mum giggles when his dad presses a quick kiss to the side of her head at breakfast, how sometimes they will forget Jisung’s even there and walk with their hands swinging in between.

“I think,” Jisung starts, not sure how to put it into words. He squeezes Jaemin’s hand. “I think I want to kiss...him...the same way my dad kisses my mum.”

Jaemin smiles through his lollipop. “That’s a cute analogy,” he says, genuine and not teasing.

But Jisung is still embarrassed and screams, “Gah!” The ahjussi doesn’t seem to like it one bit.

“No, really, Ji,” Jaemin says, squeezing his hand back. “That’s really adorable.”

Jisung laughs and pushes Jaemin’s hand away. “Fuck off,” he whines and buries his face in his hands, and maybe he should not have done that because then he remembers how much he also wants to hold Chenle’s face.

He peeks between his fingers and asks, “So you and Renjun hyung—”

And that’s the first time Jisung’s ever seen The Na Jaemin flustered.

2) His mother

Now, this was actually an Ultra-Reach; The Far-fetched Goal. He had expected his mum to go all sorry, honey, mummy doesn’t have time and then he’ll keep this secret with him for the rest of his life but like all mothers, they _do_ have time. So he awkwardly wrings his hands together and takes a seat right across his mum, in this small dimly lit dining room of theirs. And there, too, does he say, “I like a boy.”

He expects some kind of wacky reaction. Maybe some thunder, lightning. Rain. The light above them to suddenly flicker. But all she does is reach over the table and hold his hand.

“Love is love, Jisungie,” she says, a sweet, sweet smile paints across her face and Jisung smiles. And for a moment there, he lives in a gentle and soft world — just him and his mum.

That night she tucks him into bed for the first time in years, the last time being the night before his first day of middle school, and kisses his forehead good night.

Finally, she says, with fingers carding through his boyish hair, “You should talk to him, Ji.”

3) Yeojin

Yeojin was easy because when Jisung shot her a text on KKT, all Yeojin replied back was a `and?`

`ok so how do i confess`

`omg!! `Yeojin sends along with a couple of Ryan stickers. `URE DOING ITTT`

`YEOJIN DONT MAKE ME REGRET TELLING U THIS`

`im kidding!!!!!!!!! pls u guys would be so cute together T____T  
` `u really like him huh`

`yea`   
`also im gaining all this weight bc he keeps feeding me FOOD so he better stop`   
`coach boo will kill me  
` `also his heart? i want that`

`gross`  
`Anyway  
` `i have a great idea :D`

`oh god`

 

 

The sun’s dipping lower and lower into the horizon and the clouds look like thinly pulled apart cotton balls cruising through the sky. Jisung reaches the city centre in under 15 minutes and stands at the pedestrian walk for another five minutes. The sun’s gone and so are the clouds. He swallows, watching the red light blink. _Wear your heart on your sleeve_.

It turns green. He marches across the crosswalk and does the usual route. A few turns, up an alley and sees Zhong Palace. He stops and stares instead. The Zhong Palace’s blinking neon sign seems to stare back, too. Jisung huffs.

“Okay,” he says, finally. “I’m going to do it.”

He takes long slow strides towards the restaurant and he’s hesitant, his hand hovers over the door. The restaurant is not that crowded — only two tables occupied. He finally pushes it open when Chenle looks up from behind the counter and grins. He slides his shoes off, biting his lips as he approaches Chenle. _Heart on your sleeve. Heart on your sleeve_.

“Hi,” Jisung says, looking at the framed painting of the Great Wall behind Chenle's head. Then he looks at the kitchen entrance, watches the curtain beads sway under the slightest movement in the air. “Um,” he says, still not looking at Chenle.

“Jisung, I'm right here,” Chenle laughs. “What can I get you?”

Yeojin's idea is _stupid_ now that he thinks about it. It's like she ripped this off a badly written B-grade rom-com. But it's too late now. He has fists curled on the counter top, staring at the menu pasted on it.

“I'd like to order something for takeaway,” he says, pretending to go through the menu. He sees a variety of noodles, fried rice and an assortment of pork dishes. Oddly what he wants isn't on the menu.

“Sure,” Chenle says, leaning forward. “What'd you like?”

 _Heart on your sleeve_.

“I,” he begins, swallowing thickly. “I'd like your heart.”

He hears a motorcycle drive past the premise. Then,

“What?” He hears Chenle say.

Jisung's wary looking up, afraid to see what's painted across Chenle's face. He looks at Chenle and all he sees are wide eyes staring back.

“Chenle,” he croaks out, suddenly feeling small. “I'd like to take away your heart.” He cringes, fingers curling into fists. The tips of his fingers pressing hard against his palms. When Chenle doesn't say anything, his heart falls to his feet, bruised. Quickly, he says, “Not in — not in a cannibalistic kind of way, you know? I don't mean I want to eat your heart — although I have eaten cow's heart before—”

Chenle keeps staring and Jisung shifts his weight to his other foot and pauses in his ramblings.

“Chenle, I like you,” he says weakly, shoulders hunched forward.

There he said it. His heart is laid out on the counter top and it's up to Chenle if he wants to crush it with his hands or hold it gently. Chenle blinks once, twice and opens his mouth.

“Wait a minute,” he says and goes back to the kitchen, the beads rattling as Chenle walks through it. Jisung's confused. Seconds later, Kun is in tow.

“Hey, Jisung,” Kun says, smiling with his eyes. He twists his neck around to face Chenle and says something presumably in Mandarin. Chenle rolls his eyes and rounds the counter and grabs Jisung by the wrist.

“C'mon,” Chenle says. He drags him through the kitchen — “Hey Sicheng hyung!” — and opens a door. He tugs Jisung inside and Jisung’s more puzzled than before. Chenle turns on a switch and warm yellow light floods the room. It’s a small room, possibly a store room.

They don’t do anything. Jisung’s staring at his beat up Vans and inhales, exhales, inhales, exhales. He presses his lips into a thin line.

Chenle breaks the silence first.

“What you said earlier…” He trails off and Jisung finally averts his gaze from his shoes and to Chenle. He’s looking at the ground, too. Jisung smiles weakly. “Do you really mean it?”

“You think I’d joke around?”

Chenle glares and pokes Jisung’s sides, eliciting a yelp out of him.

“I just wanted to be sure,” he mumbles. “You really do?”

“Chenle,” he says, tapping Chenle’s chin with his forefinger. Chenle looks up — eyes wide, glinting. “I like you.”

“You’re serious?”

Jisung laughs dryly. “Chenle-yah,” he drags out, tired. At this point, it feels like Chenle is just playing with him. “I’m serious.

Chenle squeezes his eyes shut, his hands are curled into fists at his sides.

“Because I really like you, Jisung,” Chenle says. Finally, _finally_. “This isn’t funny if you’re — if you’re fucking—”

“I’m not,” he stubbornly insists. “I really like you, too.”

Chenle breaks into a smile then and takes a step back. Jisung swears it isn’t the lighting; Chenle just looks like he swallowed the sun. Glowing. His back is pressed against the door when he finally sighs out, “Oh, thank god. Kun hyung has really been on my ass about this whole—” He gestures towards Jisung “—thing.”

Jisung gasps. “You never told him?” He sputters in shock, incredulous about this whole situation. To think that Chenle has been feeding him food without Kun knowing. “You said it was on the house!”

“The house knows,” Chenle says, grinning like a kid who stole candy. “Kun doesn’t.”

Jisung slumps back against the wall, too, and laughs. Says, “You’re unbelievable.”

Chenle reaches out for Jisung’s hand and Jisung can feel his heartbeat in his ear. He slides his fingers over Chenle’s palm and slots them together. They’re holding hands and it’s nice. It’s real nice.

“Your hands are sweaty,” Chenle points out, grinning. Give it up to Zhong Chenle to break the mood. Jisung tugs Chenle close to him until they're chest to chest and for the first time, Jisung doesn't feel that scared.

“You think?” He huffs. “You try being in a cramped space with your crush.”

“And you think you're the only one?” Chenle's laughing into his neck, his breath fanning over his exposed skin. He looks up, grinning. Flutters his eyelashes at Jisung. Jisung's mouth turns dry.

“Don't want you to be a silly crush,” Chenle says and it's getting warm. Jisung holds Chenle by the waist and his breath stutters out a, “then what are we?”

“Hmm,” Chenle says, tilting his head to the side and bats his eyelashes together. “Wanna be your boyfriend.”

“Okay,” Jisung breathes out and Chenle laughs. “Okay.”

“Okay? It's that easy to be your boyfriend?”

“You'd say yes that fast too if you've been crushing—” Jisung clamps his mouth shut. “I mean—”

“How long, Jisung-ah,” Chenle challenges, hands coming up to circle around Jisung's neck. “How long have you been crushing on me, hmm?”

“First day of high school,” Jisung confesses, cheeks warm. Chenle widens his eyes. “Yeah. That long.”

“Cute,” Chenle comments, eyes turning soft as his fingers curl around the hair at the back of Jisung's head. They're painfully close to each other and Jisung can feel the rise and fall of Chenle's chest. His eyes flit downwards to Chenle's pretty pink lips.

“Park Jisung,” Chenle calls out, voice scandalised, breaking Jisung out from his reverie. And then he smiles. “You want to kiss me.”

“Can I?” Jisung asks. Chenle giggles, and nods. “I've never—”

“Me too.”

And Jisung laughs openly. He tugs Chenle closer and they share their first kiss in Zhong Palace's store room. Jisung kisses him tender, both palms against his cheek and Chenle whimpers, pulling Jisung closer against him.

They pull away, panting.

“Was that okay?” Jisung asks and Chenle shuts him up, lips pressed against his again.

When they're about to leave, Jisung turns the door knob to push it open. He feels a force from the outside world pulling on it. In that moment he thinks fuck fuck fuck and panics because it has been two minutes since he has declared Chenle his boyfriend (!!!) and someone’s already caught them? Shit.

But—

But it diminishes pretty quickly like an arrow from a bow however when he’s met with Renjun and not-so-surprising-because-I-kind-of-expected-this-sooner-or-later Jaemin standing right behind them. Their hands are linked together and he hears Chenle gasp and say, “Renjun,” in an accusatory tone.

“So I see there’s a lot to unpack right now,” Jaemin begins, letting go of Renjun's hand. Jisung’s insides sting a little from the awkwardness. He tries to lighten the mood, cracking out a laugh or two. Renjun is quiet for the whole time and his whole face is beet red. This is sort of the first time Jisung has seen him speechless, not in a snarky verbal fight with Jaemin.

“Maybe later, hyung,” Jisung says, giving him a tight lipped smile as he tugs on Chenle’s wrist and make their way out of the storeroom, the kitchen and exits the kitchen from the back entrance of the restaurant. They slip into some slides lying on the ground. Xuxi’s sitting outside on a plastic chair pressed against the wall, scrolling through his phone. He takes one long look at their laced fingers before standing up and heads back inside. Jisung doesn’t miss the smile that graces his face.

They both share a look, Chenle’s eyes wide and sparkling, lips a little swollen, and finally break into fits of giggles.

“You knew?” Jisung asks. Chenle’s hand is warm in his. He likes it.

“No,” Chenle replies. “I just kinda figured.”

“They’re gross,” Jisung says, sticking his tongue out. Blegh. Seeming that Renjun was dumbfounded and speechless meant that the storeroom has been Jaemin and Renjun’s Room for a much longer time than Jisung and Chenle’s fifteen minute confession. The mere thought of Jaemin’s tongue down Renjun’s throat disgusts him. “What are they even doing in there?”

“Making out probably,” Chenle says, shrugging. His grin is wide; wide and bright the way it hurts Jisung’s heart a little. This is the smile he’ll carry with him forever he hopes. “Hey, Jisung. We’re dating, right?”

Jisung feels the warmth all the way up to his toes. _Him_ dating Chenle. “We—” He starts and laughs, thinking back to minutes ago when Chenle had him pressed against the wall and many more minutes ago when Jisung had marched in with utmost confidence and said the cheesiest thing the world has ever heard.

“We are,” Jisung settles with and his face hurts from the way his mouth is strained across his face. He’s so goddamn giddy and. He’s happy. He’s really, really happy. He laughs and covers his face with his free hand. And Chenle laughs, too.

“Okay, so now we’re laughing,” Chenle says and tugs on their entwined fingers. Jisung looks down and smiles.

“Yeah,” Jisung says, looking at Chenle and he’s looking at him too, straight in the eye. He feels a little stupid everytime he looks at Chenle, obsessing over every little thing — the flutter of his eyelashes, the paleness of his cheeks, the way his nose scrunches, the way he’s looking at Jisung, eyes wide and sparkling and oh — Jisung’s in love.

And for the third? fourth? fifth? time today, Jisung falls for Chenle again. Maybe more.

 

 

“So,” Jisung says when everyone’s packing up after practice. Everyone’s almost gone, save for the three of them and Coach Boo in his office. Jaemin straightens his back and glares Jisung. He ignores Jaemin and taps Donghyuck on the shoulder. “Guess what I saw.”

“Park Jisung,” Jaemin says through gritted teeth.

Donghyuck shoulders the strap of his gym back and looks at Jaemin, then back to Jisung. “What?” He asks, raising an eyebrow.

Jisung’s grinning so wide it hurts. He opens his mouth and says, “I saw Jaemin hyung and Renjun hyung _kiss_ —”

Donghyuck never gets to hear the rest of it because seconds later Jaemin slaps his hand over Jisung’s mouth, eyes wide. He catches it still and laughs, eyes crinkling at the side.

“So you and Renjunnie—” Donghyuck points at Jaemin. “—are a thing now? Finally?”

Jaemin’s whole face turns fire truck red and Jisung feels like if he put a tomato next to his face he wouldn’t be able to tell the difference. Huffs out a, “We are _not_ a thing!” Then, gives Jisung a pointed glare.

“ _Yet_ ,” Jisung adds and does kissy faces towards Jaemin. Jaemin reaches out to pinch his cheeks but Jisung’s faster and takes off running with Jaemin in tow, screaming, “PARK JISUNGGGGGG.”

But the chase didn’t last long because he sees Chenle at the gate entrance, waiting for him. He smiles, a little giddy and quickly grabs his bag from the bench and runs to Chenle. When he reaches Chenle, he’s out of breath and he hears Donghyuck wolf whistling.

“Hey,” Jisung says, running his fingers through his hair — just the way Chenle likes it. He caught Chenle staring at him blankly once when he did it. And Chenle’s doing that staring thing again until Jisung leans forward, pressing a chaste kiss at the side of Chenle’s mouth.

“Hey,” comes Chenle’s dazed reply. He blinks his daze away and then he breaks into a smile, just enough for it to hurt Jisung’s heart. He grabs onto Jisung’s hand and entwines their fingers together. Says, “Hey, boyfriend.”

 _Boyfriend_.

Jisung likes that name very much.

 

 

Jisung gets to kiss the boy, even in all his awkward gay teenage glory. There will be bumps along the road, just like the rocks on Yongmeori Coast (Chenle slipped once and Jisung almost died), and it’s inevitable, this Jisung knows. But he hopes they will grow old together and sit next to the seaside, popping sunflower seeds for each other (“Just like my grandma and grandpa.” Chenle grabs him by the face then and kisses him again and again and again) and live happily ever after.

As long as Chenle’s next to him, hand in hand, they’re going to be okay.

**Author's Note:**

>   
>  hell yeah! u reached the end of this horrific dramedy piece! congrations and thank for reading! ilu


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